Disclaimer: Copyright for The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, et al. My writing belongs to me, as do errors.

Title: "Bands"
Chapter:
"Twice"

Hershel had taken his oatmeal and hot tea out on the grass that morning with Beth and Maggie, watching the sunrise with his daughters. The Greenes took to having a sunrise meal together several times a week after the Woodbury group had integrated. It was fairly predictable once the watch rotations began to stabilize. With the larger population, private time was at a premium. The three found that if they didn't create time to share together they would get none. The early morning was easiest for them, as the real work of the day was yet to begin and they were usually assured that they would be undisturbed. On all but the most severe mornings, the three were out to witness the transition from darkness to light.

The Greenes had found their way back to their faith, even to Hershel's surprise, Maggie. His eldest daughter had begun simply going through the motions for his benefit when she was only fourteen. Hershel had never pushed her. At that time he had enough faith, enough patience, and enough experience to know that force could never accomplish what was necessary for reconciliation with one's Maker. Maggie had not declared to him that anything was different now. She had simply started joining him and Beth when they prayed together. And very gradually this initially silent presence had matured into quiet but participatory fellowship between them.

Beth had been a different story. All her life she had exhibited a childlike faith which was shaken after the final death of her stepmother. Her failed suicide attempt had been a shock to Beth's physical, mental, and spiritual systems. Unlike Maggie, Beth engaged her father in long and serious discussions. Hershel had come to realize his daughter was becoming a woman less by the way she could now handle a gun, or sashay her hips, but because of how she could ask a penetrating question and defend her thinking on biblical texts.

His own faith was shaken at the farm. He had felt the foundations tremble, and had descended into darkness and chaos, and the demon drink. It took the pressure of the very thing that had shaken him – the necessity to save others from the thing that had nearly put him under – to settle the pillars in place again. It was its own quiet kind of miracle, he was sure. To be saved by the thing that threatened your annihilation was something a human being could never have predicted nor accomplished.

As he stood, tipping his mug to his lips to drain the last swallow of honey-sweetened tea, he felt peace and pride for his children. He once again did not fear his own death. And though he would do everything in his power to prevent it, he did not fear the death of his children.

They didn't speak as they turned to each other to acknowledge their departures. Maggie picked up her rifle and bag of tools and headed off toward the east gate where the vehicles were stored. She had been training on engines, and helping one of the newcomers, Stanley, with the cars and trucks for the past two weeks. Beth gathered the few dishes, kissed Hershel on the cheek and turned to head back into the prison. Hershel crutched over to the bleachers to rest his back and good leg, and to meditate for a few more minutes before beginning the day's medical and counseling duties.

Hershel heard the sound of someone clearing his throat, and found Rick behind him.

"Good morning, son. Will you sit with me for a might, before we start another busy one?"

"Thanks, Hershel. I was hoping that we could talk." Rick sat on the level below him.

"Of course. Some trouble come up we need to address?"

Rick didn't say anything, looking at his hands. He lifted his head to stare out across the field, free of walkers, then lowered his eyes to his hands once more. He cleared his throat again. It seemed to Hershel that whatever thinking block Rick was having had been trying to manifest as a physical block in the man's throat.

"Nah. It's nothing like that, thank god. I just – ," he looked up and out over the field again, then turned and made eye contact, "I just lost my wedding ring. I think it must have been during the fight. I don't know if it was in the prison, or at Woodbury. It could have been before, or on the road when we stopped to get Karen. It's just...gone." Rick's facial expression was strange. To Hershel it seemed like his face couldn't decide what emotion to show, so it was simultaneously trying to use different parts of several. There was sorrow, relief, fear, and anger. There were probably several others in the confusing display. "The worst part is I didn't notice it until now. How many weeks is that?" He shifted his weight where he sat, and his voice lowered. "What does that say about me?"

Hershel considered the man carefully. After Lori died Rick had been so unraveled. He had hardly registered the birth of his daughter. He had neglected the welfare of his son. He had hallucinated for days, and he had been taken up in a near madness that almost cost them the life of Michonne, now one of the valued family. The loss of the ring said less about Rick than any of that.

Yet, Hershel understood where the question came from. Hershel had been a married man. The symbolism of a wedding ring was powerful for a man of commitment, like the former deputy. It was not a thing to be removed lightly, nor to be lost without consequence. To fail to notice that loss? Hershel knew that the question was motivated by a much deeper fear: the fear that the redemption Rick had sought, and was starting to believe he could someday earn, would be lost just as easily.

"Rick, you are probably thirty pounds lighter than when I met you. That ring was hanging from you, just like your clothes do. It would have near been impossible to keep it from slipping away."

Rick listened, but his face remained unclear.

"This world is not defined by the words, or the signs, or the rules of what was before. We would not have been a family then like we are a family now. It's our beliefs and the actions that make those beliefs into reality that define us now. Having a ring on your finger does not prove that you honor Lori as the woman who was your wife or the mother of your children. Those of us who knew her and loved her, who know Carl and Judith and who love them, who know you and love you – we don't need it. New people you encounter? If they need to know, they'll know her through you and Carl and Judith, not through any ring you wear. That's what matters, if you want to know what I think."

Rick turned to meet his eyes again. It seemed to Hershel that the war for Rick's face had ended. The winner seemed to be exhaustion. Hershel felt it was probably the best he could have hoped for.

Rick nodded and swallowed. He absently massaged his left ring finger with the thumb and index of his right hand. "Thanks, Hershel. I only lost one wife. You were married twice." He dropped his gaze to somewhere over Hershel's right shoulder. "I cannot fathom how you were able to live that down once, and then do it over again. And the second time, it was in this," he gestured around them.

Hershel nodded. He often wondered how God managed those miracles, too. "I had my girls. They needed me, helped me, and I them. I am also a man of faith, Rick. That provides me with something I needed then, and need now. And, I still have the love of Josephine and the love of Annette. They each became part of me, and what I became because of the ways I love each of those uniquely beautiful women lives on."

There was the slightest change in Rick's gaze at that. Hershel couldn't read what it meant through the veil of weariness, but Rick seemed to be thinking hard. Rick reached up a hand and clapped Hershel's shoulder. With the barest of smiles, Rick stood and moved back toward the door to reenter the prison.

"Rick!" Hershel called.

"Yeah?"

"I'm ordering you to bed rest for at least six hours. I know you were on watch last night, and I know you came back in to tend Judith. That's the honor Lori needs, but your daughter needs a father that doesn't keel over. Beth has her this morning, so you are free. Do I make myself clear?"

Rick paused. His silence went on much longer than Hershel expected. Finally, with great reluctance, Rick replied, "Clear."